


Lo Barato Sale Caro

by indi_indecisive



Category: Elvish Americana, Original Work
Genre: Alternative Au, Fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 19:46:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11387115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indi_indecisive/pseuds/indi_indecisive
Summary: What's cheap will come out expensive.Moral of the story; don't buy lovecraftian noodles off of shifty men. Not even if you are getting a good deal because it's bulk. Your digestive system will not be happy.





	Lo Barato Sale Caro

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [What the Snake Saw, The Owl Said, and The Raccoon Read](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10774113) by [badAquatic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badAquatic/pseuds/badAquatic). 



There were-- are key differences to be found from the forest and to the city; a strangeness to them as well, she mulled over her thoughts, grinding them together in the cogs of her mind just as she ground her teeth. There was cold in the forest, there was cold in the city. Only one of these colds gripped her bones and made her shake with outlandish desperation.

As Sabine rolled over she could not decide if it had been the forest or if it was the city’s cold that would fall neatly under the classification. One being a cold that reached just beneath the skin, dancing along her nerves until she was nothing but a mess of pitiful chattering and stiffened palms-- and she thought that if she were fatter in the skin of the raccoon that she wouldn’t feel such a bone chill; in the city she found that the cold was nearing the same if not having long since reached the point. 

She pulled the blanket to her knows, sniffing in distaste as she wiggled her toes. The blanket was never long enough for her liking, but even now she refused to buy one longer; she would bide her time and wait for someone to throw out a larger blanket, one riddled with holes no doubt, but holes were an easy fix compared to losing money for the simple comfort as a properly sized blanket. She-- they needed food, and they could both do without the need of blankets that covered both their noses and toes at the same time. Anyone rational would understand: food over cotton, food over warm toes. She kept green eyes closed, rather insistent on denying the cold the pleasure of being the force that woke her, and to even deny the sounds of a waking city rouse her.

Funny where the words ‘waking city’; the city itself never found the time to sleep, even if cars stilled in the streets and buildings shuttered their lights, Sabine found an ever present constant humming of life. It must have been the magic that tickled her skin, keeping her on edge, a reminder of the ‘what was’ and ‘never will be’.  
With indomitable reluctance she opened her eyes, a calmness in the moments of willing herself to rise, light green hues assaulted by light and pupils dilated to adjust. Eventually the light, the sleepy haze, becomes a feat that can be easily overcome, wiggling her toes as she slide out of bed. 

The moment feet hit the floor beneath there was a ghostly shiver along her spine. She tensed, cocking her head to the side, fingers curled tightly in the think sheet of a blanket, ears twitching in a state of alertness. She knew that she was being watched, the hairs on the back of her neck rising in anticipation, her lips twitched back into the beginning of a snarl that showed pearly whites.

“Finally up are you?” The voice was a calm in the midst of panic, though there was something in the tone that touched on her anger.

In a haze of aggression she tossed the blanket aside, eyes narrowed, sending a glare like iced daggers to the man. “Really?” she snapped, “Could you not peek into my room.” The question was, of course, rhetorical-- delivered with a huff off the tongue, and then a breath to feign her lack of interest in the situation at hand.  
As tired as she was she could be calm, collected … indifferent even to her roommates lack of understanding privacy and personal whims. 

“I was just seeing if, or rather when, you were going to be waking.” Salvador countered, bringing muscular arms across his chest, nose crinkling as he sniffed the air. “You … stink.”

Sabine rolled her eyes, giving another huff in turn as she rose out of bed, sparing a glance back to the crumpled sheets and, for the briefest moment, found hesitation in her hands to fold them. It was always a thing to debate upon; a made bed would eventually become messy in the end, holes or not in the sheets, but the moment passed and Sabine set to fold the fabric. Quick, neat folds before she tucked the sheet and blanket in. 

“You know, you stink too. What time is it?” She turned back to her counter, bringing a hand to scratch at the side of her little black nose, sniffing away at an itch on the inside. 

“Oh, you know, late enough that I thought you left already.” Salvador gave her a nod, leaving the doorway of her room in favor of sauntering to the kitchen; Sabine followed after, a rumble in her stomach drove her to quicker steps, and such a simple growl of hunger turned to a deep seeded pain. Brows knitted, she inhaled sharply, perhaps the black ramen had not settled well in the night. Sleep must have encouraged it, or something else, there were too many possibilities with the black noodles and, truthfully, she had expected Salvador to end with any impromptu illnesses. The big baby couldn’t even handle eating the noodles at first, it had taken ages to coax him to even hold the bowl, let alone to get him to stop being frightened of growling food.

“Don’t tell me you waited for me to wake before eating?” She chided, planting her elbows onto the wooden bar of the kitchen. While it was a small apartment, it had been better than nothing, coming with a decent amount of space the two made do with; although Sabine was curious on who had decided that the apartment needed a breakfast bar for the kitchen, as the wall and shelf took more room than it ever could serve. Idly she trailed a finger across the wooden top of the bar, watching as Salvador shuffled around on the other side.

“Couldn’t decide what I wanted. We have that … Ugh, black ramen left. Did you honestly expect me to eat that without you?” He asked, looking back to her with a cocked brow. Paused his motions of preparing them food, he watched her trace a few symbols on the counter top. 

An odd, misplaced moment of curiosity. Head cocked to the side, the moment of stillness and serenity washed over his body, as if he were frozen in time; the moment broken when she meet his gaze with something cold, a subdued aggression in her eyes, nothing playful like the glare moments prior-- her anger was dangerously real.  
Sabine pressed her palms flat against the wood, giving a shrug. “Well, go on then. If you cook the ramen this time, maybe you won’t encourage it.” 

Thankful for the moment of odd tension to end, Salvador returned to collecting his pot, giving a halfhearted shrug. “I’m still not convinced that stuff is safe to eat. Whose ever heard of black ramen? It moves, Sabine, moves! How can you even stomach that?”

She snorted in response, rolling her eyes, stretching up to watch as Salvador filled a pot halfway with water. 

“These cook the same, right?” He cast a glance back to her, she shrugged in response, favoring the action of watching Salvador retrieve two packets of the noodles rather than speaking. He flipped one package over, trying to make out the labels; there was nothing to read, no instructions to cook or nutritional information.  
Oh, if packaging could speak, these wrapped noodles would gladly scream ‘don’t fucking buy this product’. Then again, it came in bulk. Bulk! How could she have turned down the offer?

“Yes, Salvador, they cook like normal noodles. Try not to overcook them, they’re more aggressive when they’re overdone.”

Salvador snorted, plopping one packet of untouched noodles into the pot and then, sparing a moment to crush the second packet easily between his palms, dumped the crushed noodles into the pot. Eyeing the contents of the pot suspiciously, Salvador chewed absently on the inside of his cheek. “Uh … Sabine? Sabine! I think they’re growling at me!”

Sabine snickered, pushing herself away from the kitchen bar, deciding to ignore the possible attack of the killer, growling black ramen in favor of relaxing in the living room. 

“You’ll be fine. Don’t encourage them!”

**Author's Note:**

> [commission me ](http://angrybeardedmen.tumblr.com/post/161976098196/angrybeardedmen-im-here-to-write-shit-we-all)


End file.
